


Renascent

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Rebirth, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:56:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something strange about their new bitlet. Both Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renascent

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a carrier-Magnus kick lately. This fic is also posted on my [Tumblr](http://andromedaprime.tumblr.com/post/141666194170/renascent).

“Did you feel it?”

Shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the mech standing at the window with his back to him, Magnus drew a slow and calculated breath. He gave a minute nod; it was what he could muster in his weakened state.

“I felt it even before I knew I was sparked.”

“Hmm.” Wheeljack turned around. Magnus noted how the other mech’s helm fins twitched as he stared at the tiny bundle he held in his arms. The sparkling nestled within the thermal sheet yawned, and his own little helm fins twitched and tilted upward. Small servos mirroring his carrier’s clutched at the folds of the blanket.

Magnus didn’t miss the frown on his sparkmate’s faceplates.

“Heh. Thought I was missin’ a coupla circuits in my processor.”

“You felt it as well?”

“Yeah. An’ just now it was kinda confirmed, actually.” Wheeljack strode over to Magnus’s berth and placed the sparkling in the blue mech’s waiting arms. “Thought if I told you I’d sound like I was a screw loose.”

“I thought the same.” Magnus traced the outline of the bitlet’s silver serene faceplates, framed by blue helm armor, with a careful digit. “My bond is much closer with his, since I’m his carrier. I would sense what he felt, and sometimes he would transmit his thoughts into my processor. The first time it happened I wasn’t aware then that I was carrying.” He thought of his reaction back then, one of sheer confusion. “I thought Optimus was trying to communicate with me from the Well.”

“Probably was talkin’ to you, for all we know. Telling you that he was gonna be comin’ back.”

The sparkling began fussing, bleary whitish-blue optics opening and servos reaching for his carrier. Out of carrier instinct, Magnus moved his digit to tap lightly at the bitlet’s lipplates, and upon feeling the sparkling trying to latch on, dropped one of his feeding lines from his chassis.

He felt Wheeljack’s confused stare on his shoulder strut. The other mech cleared his vocalizer and he heard him speak again. “I’m… this is a bit… weird.”

Magnus gave Wheeljack a reproachful glare. “He’s a _sparkling_.”

“I know! Just… knowing that he is or might be the ol’ Commander-”

“Regardless of whom he may or may not be, he is still our son and I am not going to refuse him what he needs.”

“Wasn’t sayin’ that, Mags,” he heard Wheeljack scoff, followed by the familiar sound of the white-armored mech slapping a servo against his faceplates. “Was only sayin’ it was a bit odd.”

“Then if you know what is best for you at this time, you’ll leave it at that. I’m far too exhausted to give proper rebuttals.”

“Fine.”

The room fell quiet, save for the sound of the sparkling suckling on the feeding tube. Magnus was too tired to do anything except stare at the bitlet to make sure he got all the energon he needed.

He became faintly aware of Wheeljack pulling a chair up to his berthside. When the mechling was done and had popped the feeding tube from his mouth, he made a silent gesture for one of the folded, cleaned sheets that Ratchet had left on the berthside table. Wheeljack grabbed one and handed it over, taking the bitlet into his arms after Magnus wiped drool and energon remnants from the sparkling’s chin.

Cleaning the tip of the feeding tube, Magnus stored it away in his chassis, sighing heavily.

The weight of it wasn’t lost on Wheeljack. The smaller mech’s helm fins tilted in the berth’s direction before he picked his helm up, looking at his mate with concern in his optics. “You alright there?”

Magnus looked at the mechling, his son, cradled in Wheeljack’s arms. He shook his helm. “No.”

Wheeljack shifted in the seat. “What is it that’s gettin’ you?”

After a moment of contemplation, Magnus sighed. “I want to ask him why he chose us. There are many other pairs he could have chosen. I wonder why he felt that we were the better choice.”

“Whoa, hey, I see it as a compliment. If anythin’,” Wheeljack began lightly bouncing the chirping bitlet in his arms, looking at the tiny silver faceplates and laughing, “shows he thinks we’ll take great care of him. Or it might have somethin’ to do that you and I,” Wheeljack laid the little mech on the empty space of berth between him and Magnus, “were the only ones at the time to seal our bond.”

“He could have waited.”

“True, yeah. But I think he also preferred you over anyone else because you were one of his oldest friends. The doc’s missin’ his old mate. Bulk and ‘cee haven’t made it official yet, and Bee and Smokescreen…”

Magnus’s optics widened slightly and he looked down at the bitlet lying next to him, who was wriggling in his thermal blanket. “If his only other option was to have those younglings as his creators, then I suppose we’re the logical choice.”

“Bingo. Though it’s kinda funny ‘cause I know the ol’ Commander was aware I wasn’ his biggest fan.” Wheeljack leaned over and loosened the sheet that was wrapped around the sparkling before completely removing it, revealing the colorful armor in all its glory. “But as a sparklin’, he ain’t such a bad thing.”

The bitlet raised silver servos, wanting to be picked up. He kicked his long legs, blue with bits of red on the backsides. Wheeljack picked him up and kissed the tiny helm crest, and each of his antennae and helm fins, before placing him on his sparkmate’s chassis.

Magnus curled a servo around the soft metal frame, which would still need a few solar cycles to solidify. Bright optics stared curiously at him, blinking as if trying to put him into better focus. The bitlet flared his field outward and clumsily placed a servo on his faceplates, and the Autobot/Wrecker Commander was taken slightly aback.

When things looked like they were going to Pit and that they would lose to the Decepticons, Optimus Prime would mingle his comforting field with his and place a servo on his shoulder, and tell him that they were going to be just fine.

He wondered if the bitlet knew exactly who he was, and what he had been before. If there would come a day when he would begin to vocalize that he remembered things that, logically, a sparkling should not remember.

A servo slid down the length of the arm he’d left to his side, twining digits with his. Magnus looked over at Wheeljack, who had his helm resting against his shoulder stack as he looked at the bitlet.

“Can sense you’re worried. We’ll be fine,” Wheeljack murmured, leaning part of his frame over so he kissed the other mech on his lipplates. “We can do this.”

For the first time since Ratchet had passed the wet, wailing sparkling into the exhausted and sobbing Ultra Magnus’s arms, he let a smile come across his normally stoic faceplates. He looked at the sparkling on his chassis, who had since fallen back into recharge.

“I don’t know if you can understand me. Though we were wholly unprepared for your arrival, we swear we will do everything we can to protect you, and to give you a more peaceful life than the one you had before. And you have our undying love, my son…” Magnus trailed off and looked at Wheeljack.

The white-armored Wrecker smiled and nodded.

“I swear it upon my spark, and your sire swears it up on his, Orion.”

Yawning, Orion cracked an optic open at the sound of his name and fixed it on his carrier for a moment before closing it again.


End file.
